Eclectic, parochial Perth

I flew into Perth for work on Sunday and got hit with the expected “our weather is fantastic, our air is so clean, our football team is awesome” that I expected from the taxi driver. And he was right. But it seemed so “small town”. I check into Rydges (awful name BTW) and watch my beloved Tigers get trounced by the Saints. It seems to be a premonition of what is to come. I get to the office, and narrowly avoid having the alarm go off on me by typing in the security PIN in near darkness in 29 seconds. I find the computer room, which is more like an overheated large cupboard, and discover to my horror that the server has no graphics card. Egad. After many calls to Houston, K.L, Melbourne, I arrange to have some spare cards air-freighted the following day. I decide it’s time for a soothing beverage and discover a Belgian Beer Cafe right near the hotel – now that could be dangerous. Those Trapiste beers are just fabulous – I only had one though – a Leffe Braun. Why I’ve never been to one in Melb. – I don’t know. I get to bed at 1am after 6 hours at work and wake to walk the streets on Anzac day. Plenty of medals on people’s breasts and a whole stack of sailors wandering the streets in search of places that serve a half decent latte. I find a popular spot and pretentiously (if secretly) read Faulkener’s Sanctuary, which I thought long and hard about tossing in the bin at one stage. Large sections made no sense, which I justified by telling myself that is WAS written in 1931. Boy how language has changed. This is all being done to a background of some laid-back jazz music of the kind that seems to be in every cafe nowdays. Inoffensive and mildly upbeat, but so uninspiring (for a guy who likes a bit of passion in his tunes like me). I look around me and there are half a dozen singles also reading books and wish I had the balls to make a bit of eye contact and have a silly chat about being stuck in a foreign city and wishing our partners were there. Meanwhile, a couple of cafes later – the food is pretty average and the prices high. And work is paying – I’d be a lot less happy if it was coming out of my wallet. I mean, that Tagliatelle (sp?) with calamari was just downright crap. I could make a better one. Now I know I’m tired. Anyhow – it’s quite a nice place and I found a great bookshop this afternoon, where I picked up a strange book about some sailors from Nicaragua being stuck on a boat in the U.S, but not allowed to come ashore – sounds a lot like that recent Tom Hanks movie “The Terminal”. Gosh – did I just make my very first weblog TV/movie reference – I promised I would never do that.